


Broken

by Sophia_Bee



Category: The Old Guard (Comics), The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Canonical Character Death, F/F, Found Family, Healing, Historical References, Immortal Husbands Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Immortal Wives Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko, Just That One Time, M/M, POV Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, POV Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Pre-Movie: The Old Guard (2020), Returning to Malta (The Old Guard), Searching for Quynh | Noriko, Sexual Content, The Old Guard: Force Multiplied, Trauma, What Happened in Malta (The Old Guard)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:13:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26199130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophia_Bee/pseuds/Sophia_Bee
Summary: After Noriko is lost to the sea, Andy, Nicky and Joe struggle to make sense of the senseless.
Relationships: Andy | Andromache of Scythia & Quynh | Noriko, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 24
Kudos: 92





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot to say about this story. I will start by thanking my beta, **Leafeylocket**. You are the best, dearest. 
> 
> This story started as a funny little gem about Joe driving Nicky crazy by becoming a nudist. Whoops. That story is still bumping around in my head. 
> 
> Is it THAT time in Malta? I don't think so. But it's A time in Malta. 
> 
> It's set in the comicverse. I wanted to use the way Noriko is lost in the comic instead of in the movie. For this reason I'm writing Noriko, not Quynh. They are the same person except they are lost in different ways. In the comics Noriko is lost in a terrible freak accident and Andy, Nicky and Joe are all there to witness it. Also, Andy and Noriko are undeniable canon in the comics. If you haven't read the comics, I strongly encourage it. They are easy, not a ton of reading and they bring a bit more depth to all of the characters. 
> 
> This story is trauma informed. It's about losing someone in a senseless way, someone you love, someone who should not be gone. It's about how to find a way through it. And it's about love and family. 
> 
> Lastly, the story set in the 1700s. I scoured the comics trying to figure out when Noriko was lost and then guessed. After I had written most of the story and done a TON of research (FYI, the distances travelled and the time it took in the story, are mostly accurate, thanks internets), I did find that Noriko was lost three hundred years ago, maybe almost four hundred, which would be in the 1600s. Whoops. 
> 
> A few final notes about canon. 
> 
> Comic canon: Malta is where they go after breaking out of Merrick's. Malta is clearly important to all of them. Nicky cooks. Nicky is good. Almost 400 years later, Andy still loves Noriko. They have all killed each other at various times in the past. 
> 
> Movie canon: the way Andy and Nicky embrace at the beginning of the movie shows that they mean a lot to each other. I drew a lot on that moment. You can tell they love each other. I also drew from the way Charlize Theron tells the story of Quynh being trapped in that box and thrown into the ocean. You can see Andy’s pain is still fresh. 
> 
> My headcanon: Nicky is the empath of the group. Joe is funny but deadly serious when he needs to be. He cuts through the noise when it becomes too much for Nicky. Andy is the world's most dangerous den mother, is eternally trying to rectify all her mistakes, and is closest to Nicky. Malta is home. 
> 
> If you've read ALL of this, thank you so much. xoxo

There’s not a lot that scares Nicky. He’s walked the earth for hundreds of years and in that time he’s seen countless deaths, unbearable atrocities and the worst that humanity can dish up. He knows that sometimes living is worse than dying, that no matter how ugly death is, life can be uglier. There’s not a lot that scares him but that means that there is something. One thing in particular. 

The sea. 

Sometimes he wakes with all his muscles tensed up as if it’s that day all over again, as if he’s running to her, the rain lashing his face and soaking his hair and beard, his whole body tingling with fear. The memory never seems to fade. Joe is there, his hands going to the heavy beam that’s pinning Andromache down as she screams...

Nicky is pulling at wood that’s slippery with rain and seawater, splinters dig into his hands. His feet slip. His heart pounds, his vision swims as he and Joe struggle, as the sea crashes around them. Andy wails. It’s a grief-stricken, inhuman sound that will continue to haunt Nicky’s dreams over and over again. By the time they have pulled the boom off Andy their entire world is changed and Nicky doesn’t know it yet. Relief floods him as Joe picks Andy off the deck, wraps his strong arms around her. She pushes and claws at him and Nicky is momentarily confused. He looks around the splintered deck, glances out over the dark, churning water, around at the frightened faces who just watched a woman be crushed by a boom the size of a tree trunk and still be pulled out alive, and suddenly he realizes what’s nagging at the back of his thoughts, what’s missing. No, not what. Who. Nicky’s stomach twists. 

_...no no no…_

“Joe?” Nicky yells over the storm, his words almost whipped away in the gale, rain streaming into his eyes, soaking his beard, his clothes, “Riko?”

Andy wails even louder at hearing Nicky ask for Noriko. The ship cracks as another wave pounds it. Joe meets Nicky’s eyes with a look of such deep sorrow that Nicky feels like he’s being torn asunder, and he knows. Noriko is gone. 

Grief is almost as terrifying as the sea. Nicky didn’t know this until today. In that instant their whole world changed. 

They manage to get below deck, Joe holding tightly to Andy as she tries to claw her way back to the sea; back to Noriko. Nicky grabs her face in her hands, meets her blank eyes with his own, filled as they are with horror and grief. 

“Not you too, Andromache. I cannot lose you too” Nicky’s chest is tight with pain. _...I cannot bear this…_

They go to Malta, all three weary, Andy barely speaking, her eyes dark and haunted. 

Nicky loves Malta. Malta is staying up until dawn, just enough alcohol in his veins to make him feel warm and happy, Noriko’s head on Andy’s lap as the sky starts to grow pale. Malta is Joe greeting him with a smile on a warm summer morning and gently messing his hair. He loves the sapphire blue sea that laps onto its shores and the groves of twisted, ancient olive trees that dot the island. He loves how the sun washes out the limestone buildings and how you can almost taste the heat on a hot summer day. Malta is as close to home any of them can get. Malta is where they have fought and it's where they’ve rested. 

Now Malta is nothing but a blur of pain and worry. 

They never leave her alone. One of them sleeps every night in a cot at the foot of Andy’s bed. NIcky wakes to Joe’s hand on his shoulder and offers him a small, sleepy nod. Joe settles on the cot while Nicky goes to the kitchen and makes strong coffee for the both of them. They sit next to Andromache on the porch overlooking the sea as she stares into the distance, never truly seeing anything, still barely speaking. At night Nicky holds her as she sobs Noriko’s name, her mouth open against his shoulder as she weeps. Her fingers curl into the cloth of his homespun shirt which is wet with both their tears. 

Nicky will never forget how worry formed a tight knot in his stomach that never seemed to fade. He knew that Andy could not die but he could not fathom how she was going to live after losing Noriko. Nicky knows that she would have joined Noriko that day if the two of them hadn’t been there to stop her. 

“She’s so sad,” Nicky whispers against Joe’s skin one night in a rare moment when Andy is in a deep enough sleep that he could sneak his arms around Joe’s waist and rest his head against his chest and try not to tell him how much he misses him. Joe’s chest is bare and his skin sticky from the heat, and Nicky can hear his heartbeat under his ear, strong and steady. He digs his fingers into the muscles of Joe’s arm and holds onto him as if he was the only thing that was keeping him from being swept away just like Noriko. 

“She’s had too much loss,” Joe answers, his fingers carding through Nicky’s hair, his words rumbling in his chest. Nicky feels a swell of love for this stoic, beautiful man whose way with words never fails to cut through the noise. Love is followed by fear. Nicky shivers a little and swallows the fear like a bitter tincture, trying to ignore how it burns. 

Almost two millennia gone in the blink of an eye. The cruelty is nigh-on unbearable. 

Days pass, then weeks. Andy weeps until it seems she should have no tears left, screams until her voice is a hoarse, scratchy whisper and still she mostly calls Noriko’s name. She asks over and over why not her. She sobs out her bottomless grief every night until she sinks into a fitful sleep. Slowly Nicky feels himself start to crack, the weight of her grief breaking him in a way he never imagined possible. 

Then one day it stops. 

It’s a beautiful day. The sun is shining as Nicky walks back from the market, his canvas bag heavy with creamy sheep's milk cheese and fresh ftira. The walk to the nearby village clears Nicky’s head and the warm sunshine on his face lifts his spirits. Still, as he approaches the limestone house with its high airy arches, Nicky feels a slow trickle of dread. He steels himself as he pushes through the door and the everpresent knot of worry tightens in his belly. Some days it seems the pain isn’t less endless than their uncertain immortality. Some nights, as he lies in the cot listening to Andy breathe and missing Joe so much it almost physically hurts, he lets that one little thought loose, the one that gets banished to the darkest corners of his mind. 

_Maybe it would have been better if Andy had been lost with Noriko._

Joe is sitting at the hewn wooden table and Nicky startles to see him. 

“She’s…” his question trails off. Joe knows what Nicky asks. 

“Asleep,” Joe says quietly, his fingers wrapping around a mug of coffee. Nicky smells clove and anise. He looks at Joe, takes in his unruly hair, the dark circles under his eyes. Nicky aches at the weariness his lover exudes. 

“Rough night?” Nicky already knows the answer to his question. Andy asleep this time of day means the night went poorly. Joe nods then looks up at Nicky with those tired eyes. Nicky moves forward as his chest clenches tightly and he is filled with a sudden nostalgic longing for everything that happened to be washed away and it could be just the four of them again in Malta. They could drink a good bottle of wine and Nicky could fall asleep in Joe’s arms without grief weighing him down like an anchor. Noriko could be with them again and Andy would have the light back in her eyes. 

Nicky sets his bag on the table then moves to stand behind Joe who glances up at him then tilts his head back and rests his head against Nicky’s abdomen, closing his eyes. Nicky tangles his fingers in Joe’s curls and studies his lover’s face, taking in the sharp line of his nose, the way his lashes lay on his cheek. This man is nothing extraordinary. Yet he moves Nicky in a way that feels like it should not be possible. He breathes in deeply, inhaling the sour smell of sleep and sweat mixed with olive oil soap. Suddenly Nicky feels a painful stab of regret deep in his chest, no less potent than the scimitar Joe had driven through him countless times, the same one now resting in the corner of the bedroom they should be sharing, the same one he wears strapped on his back. 

This should not be happening. Malta should be beautiful days, evenings telling stories, nights stretched out against Joe. It should be Nicky and Joe, Andy and Riko. It should be laughter. It should be family. Instead it’s splintered, overwhelming, grief-stricken, and behind all of that, there’s fear. Fear that someday it won’t be Andy trying to make sense of senseless loss but him or Joe. Tears prick at Nicky’s eyes. 

“Nicolo.” Nicky startles at the sound of his name, a gravelly whisper, the sound like a voice from the grave. He looks up and sees Andromache of Scythia standing in the doorway of her bedroom. She is too thin, swaying a bit, dark circles under haunted eyes. Her mouth is thin, her skin pale: she is dressed, wearing pantaloons, a vest and a wool coat. Her labrys is gripped so hard by her right hand that her knuckles are white. 

“Andy,” Joe exclaims. 

“Time to leave.” The same unearthly voice, and Nicky feels like he’s staring at a stranger. 

“Andromache.” Nicky’s voice is low, worried, as he struggles to make sense of this sudden change. She looks at him, her face so blank he thinks Andy actually isn’t in there anymore; a look devoid of emotion.

“One rule. We don’t talk about her. We never talk about her.” _Noriko_ Her voice cracks. Andy hoists her labrys onto her back. “Now, I need to go kill some people.” 

They leave Malta a week later.


	2. Chapter 2

Joe’s breath freezes, leaving a cloud in the air. He’s lying on his stomach, his pistol gripped in his right hand. Trees loom around him, reaching up towards a sky of midnight blue, spangled with stars. The snow on the ground around them sparkes brightly even on a moonless night, casting the world in various shades of gray and blue. They’re crouched in a hollow just outside a Russian army camp. Joe glances over at Andy who lies next to him on her belly. She’s staring towards the camp and in the dim light cast by only the stars he can see her face holds a grim look of determination. Joe’s stomach drops. How many will die tonight? 

They've been in Poland almost a year. It was a year in Turkey before that. Turkey was better. Better isn’t the right word. Nothing these days is better. At least it was warmer. Joe hates the cold, the snow, the strange language he still struggles with. He hates the boiled cabbage they sometimes seem to live on and he longs for home, wherever that might be, and home cooked meals and his Nicolo. He mostly longs for Nicky. 

It’s not like they haven’t been out on longer missions before. They’d spent five years in central Asia fighting in various tribal wars. Nicky and Joe had actually settled in Athens for twenty trips around the sun in the years before they’d found Andy and Riko. They’d had a house and a life until time inevitably tore it from them and they left before anyone noticed a distinct lack of wrinkles or gray hair. Two years is a blink of the eye for uncertain immortals but the last two years have felt nothing short of a lifetime of sadness and unresolved grief. Andromache cannot stop. Joe thinks she never will. There is nothing that can heal the gaping open wound of anguish Andromache of Scythia has become. She cannot stop drowning herself in unending sorrow and she is dragging Nicky and Joe with her. 

Nicky is suffering. Joe’s heart aches for the man he loves, for his soul that carries too much weight, for the gauntness of his face and the look of being stretched too thin around his eyes. He’s not been the same. Not since Malta. Not since Noriko. Joe longs for time and space, a way to soothe away that sorrow, but he never gets it. Andy kills 10, 20 soldiers then they move to attack the next camp. She slices their throats in the dark of night, sinks her labryth into their skulls with a soft thwack. It’s a frantic dizzying quest with no end in sight and sometimes Joe hates her for this. Sometimes he wants to take her by the shoulders and shake her and yell that Noriko is gone, she is gone, and they all have to deal with it, ALL, not just Andy, Joe and Nicky too and her grief isn’t somehow more precious. She never looked for her. None of them did. None of them. 

Almost two years running from Andy’s invisible demons. Two years stuck in Andy’s quest for some sort of absolution built on lives and blood. 

Andy sobs in her sleep and Nicky never fails to twitch against Joe and say Noriko’s name over and over. Sometimes Joe feels like the only thing keeping their little family from falling apart. If he is the twine, he is slowly fraying. There are not many things that can truly wound immortals. It seems they have found one of the few. 

Then there is the rule. The one that says they never speak of their loss. The one Andy spit out the day she emerged, the day she realized that she had no choice but to live. Joe wonders if any of them are truly living. He never breaks the rule, matter how much he wants to. No matter how many times it’s almost on the tip of his tongue. They never talk about why they are here, or why Andy seems to be on a mission for endless body counts and has developed an appetite for Russian lives. They carry the burden of the rule and their collective loss in silence. 

Some rules make the pain worse. Some rules are meant to be broken.

Nicky woke that morning with a sob in his throat. He’d turned to face Joe, fisting his shirt as he’d buried his face in Joe’s chest. Joe had rubbed soothing circles on his back. Mornings can be hard. The dreams aren’t quite far enough away yet. Pain bloomed in Joe’s chest at seeing his Nicolo, and all he could think was fuck Andy, and fuck her rules. He wants to go home even though he’s not entirely sure what home means anymore. 

“We cannot keep doing this,” Joe whispered against Nicky’s neck as he held him tightly in the darkness of the empty farmhouse, Andy sleeping only feet away. He ached for a real bed and a door they could close, for time to hold Nicky close, for enough space that maybe, just maybe, they could finally release even some of the anguish and finally grieve. He has none of that. Just stolen moments, quick kisses, furitive hand jobs just enough for release between frantic missions. Almost two years of this. 

“We cannot stop. She needs us….”

Joe swallows. He loves Nicky and his goodness so much it hurts. Then he speaks the truth that has been rattling around his head, slowly growing until he can no longer hold it back. His voice a raspy and wretched whisper as he finally lets go of what he’s been holding back. “I need us, Nicolo. I need us.” 

Nicky hadn’t responded at first. He had blinked at Joe and Joe couldn’t see if his eyes were shining with tears but he thought he might be. Nicky’s hands had come up to cradle Joe’s face and the touch of his fingers was warm, sending a shiver through Joe. What Nicky said next shattered Joe into a million pieces. 

“So do I.” 

That was the moment Joe knew something had to give, even if it meant losing Andy as well. They had left for the Russian camp a few hours later, riding one after the other in silence, Joe lost in his thoughts. Now they crouch in the woods about to do the same thing they’ve been doing for the last two years yet again. Joe squeezes his eyes shut and asks Allah, the god he hasn’t believed in for so long, to give him the strength he needs to stop this today. 

Andy makes a pssst sound that startles Joe. He glances in her direction and their eyes meet. Andy gives him a nod, then without a word she scrabbles across the snow covered ground, weaving her way deftly between the trees, silent and deadly. Joe follows, pistol cocked, Nicky trails after them with his sword drawn. It’s the same as the countless raids before. They will give Andy cover. She will do most of the killing. That’s how she wants it. 

The Russian soldiers never know what hits them. Andy quietly slips from tent to tent. Joe and Nicky keep watch outside. When she’s done, they slip quietly away, back into the darkness. Ghosts, the Russians will call them. Andy is yet again writing herself into legends. Joe’s stomach churns. Nicky’s mouth is set and grim. They run through the pitch black, the snow crunching under their feet. They have to put distance between themselves and the Russians. Nowhere is safe once the carnage is discovered. 

Finally they reach the horses they’d left hobbled in the forest. They mount. First Andy, then Nicky and finally Joe. Joe’s horse snorts and shifts beneath him. He digs his knees into her sides and the sound of muffled hooves fill his ears as they make their way towards Warsaw. They ride all night until they reach the same old dilapidated abandoned farmhouse on the outskirts of the city they’d left that morning. One more night and they move on in the morning. 

Nicky barely glances at Joe before he creeps into a corner and slumps exhausted against the wall, wordlessly staring into the empty room. Joe glances at Nicky for a long moment, aching to go to him, but something holds him back. Andy drops her bag then steps outside. Joe watches her retreating figure for a long moment, still aching to slide down next to Nicky, to drop his head down to rest on Nicky’s and push away what he knows he must do. Instead he steels himself and follows.

Andy stands a few feet from the doorway and Joe can see the orange ember of a cigarette glowing in the darkness. Her back is towards the door and her labrys strapped to it. The sight almost brings a small smile to Joe’s mouth. Andromache of Scythia is always ready for battle. Joe walks up behind her with silent feet. He sees a slight shift in her shoulders. She knows he’s there. 

“Yusuf,” Andy says quietly. His oldest name. The name she uses when things are serious. The hair on the back of Joe’s neck prickles. He sucks in a deep breath then speaks. 

“It won’t bring her back.” The killing. The bloodshed. The lives taken. None of it changes the fact that Noriko is gone.

Andy jerks a little at the sound of his voice but she doesn’t turn to look at him. She takes a deep drag on her cigarette. The tip lights up in the darkness. Joe feels his heart pounding. He tries again. 

“She’s gone.” 

Another drag on the cigarette. Joe wants to surge forward, to grab her and shake her, to beg her to open her eyes and see what they’ve all become. 

“Andy…”

She finally responds, turning so fast that Joe almost doesn’t block her fist that flies towards him. His right arm stings as Andy’s blow lands hard. Joe gasps in surprise. Before he can make sense of what just happened a second fist is flying towards him. Joe brings up his left arm and steps backwards, avoiding Andy’s blow. His heart pounds in his ears mouth goes dry like it always does in a fight. 

“No,” Andy grunts. Joe sees her arm reach to her back and he instinctively mirrors this, reaching for his own sword. There is a familiar loud clang of metal on metal their weapons clash. 

“No.” 

Andy charges forward with fantastic speed, swinging her labrys so fast that Joe can barely manage to block and dodge. His muscles ache. His heart pounds. His brain is a jumble of adrenaline, but one singular thought manages to break through. 

_...she’s going to kill me…_

Not that it matters. Not that it hasn’t happened before. Still….

Sweat stings Joe’s eyes. He’s getting tired. Andy swings her labrys again and this time Joe is too slow. The blade of the ancient axe sinks into his shoulder, slicing muscle and tendon. Joe feels the warm, familiar flow of blood down his shoulder. Pain streaks across Joe’s nerves and his stomach churns. None if it is novel but the feeling of being seriously wounded never fails to surprise him. 

Joe stumbles backwards, briefly losing his footing. His sword drops to the ground. Instead of pausing Andy does what any good warrior would do. Andy is nothing but a good warrior. She sweeps out a leg, knocking Joe‘s from under him. He falls to the ground with a soft grunt. He takes the brunt of the impact with his injured shoulder which sends a fresh surge of pain through his body. Joe feels the sting of bile in his throat as he stares up at Andy. She stands above him, labrys raised, eyes blazing. Joe braces himself for the final blow, braces himself to die. 

“Andromache.” 

Andy freezes and both she and Joe turn their heads to see Nicky standing in the doorway of the abandoned farmhouse. His eyes are blazing, his mouth grim. Joe opens his mouth to call to him, not sure if he’s issuing a warning or a plea. Then he bites back his name. 

“Stop. No more.”

Andy blinks but she doesn’t move. She stares at Nicky, labrys raised, her chest rising and falling with exertion, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts. Joe turns his head to look up at Andy. His shoulder throbs with pain now mixed with the familiar sharp pull of healing as his flesh knits back together. 

“We need to go home,” Joe says quietly but with a conviction that he speaks a truth they’ve known for years. 

Andy shifts her gaze from Nicky to stare down at Joe, her face spattered with blood - Joe’s blood - tears streaking her cheeks. Joe feels pain deep in his chest, a pain different from the pain that throbs in his shoulder; a pain that cannot heal. 

“I have no home. I lost my home.” 

_...Noriko…_

Joe feels his heart split into two.


	3. Chapter 3

Nicky puts his hand to his brow, shielding his eyes from the bright sun. Sunshine in Spain always reminds Nicky of oranges, lemons and olives. Behind them the sails of the small schooner they had booked passage on snap in the wind. Joe had scrambled ahead, climbing up the boardwalk, hoping to secure them berths close to each other, leaving Andy and Nicky alone. 

The air is filled with the tangy brine of the sea and Nicky cannot distinguish if he’s tasting the salt of the sea air or of the tears that wet his cheeks. In the distance the crew shouts and the rigging of the schooner cracks in the wind. It’s the familiar cacophony of a sea port. They all sound the same. Overhead a gull floats near the mast, struggling against the gusts until it finally is able to land. Nicky squints at Andy who is now gazing out over the water. Finally he asks the question he already knows the answer to. 

“You’re not coming with us, are you?”

Nicky’s words are almost whipped away by the howling wind. Andy turns to look at him, her face a mask of sadness that makes Nicky’s throat tighten. She purses her lips and shakes her head “no”, her eyes shining with tears.

“Are you sure?” 

Andy looks at Nicky with those sad eyes, the wind whipping her hair into her face and her hand comes up to brush it away. The thinness has left Andy’s mouth since they left Warsaw but her eyes are still haunted. They silently plead with Nicky and heart aches. Andy dips her head to stare at the worn timbers of the pier below her feet. Nicky knows what she cannot say. 

“Joe would tell you to come anyway, that we’ll figure it out. Together.” 

Andy snuffs a little and looks back at Nicky. “But you won’t tell me that. You know I have to do this.” 

Nicky gives Andy a long look as he digests her words. She’s right. This is her quest. He won’t ask her to do something she cannot. He won’t act like she hasn’t been broken into a million pieces. He won’t pretend he doesn’t see the anguish in her eyes. He won’t try to tell her there’s a different way. Nicky shakes his head. 

“I won’t stop you.” 

Barcelona was a welcome sight after traveling for months. They were weary and thin from too many days on horseback and too little food. Nicky had glanced at Andy the day they finally saw the city and there was a small smile on her lips, the first he’d seen in what seemed like an eternity, and Nicky’s heart had felt lighter than it had in a very long time. Now his heart is weighed down again knowing that Andy is walking away from them, from her family. 

“You’re going to find her.” 

“I need to. I need to try.” 

“We can help. We can go with you.” 

“No.” Andy shakes her head. “I need to do this without you.” 

Nicky nods. He understands This is Andy’s journey, what she needs. They cannot be part of it. When someone has been by your side for what feels like an eternity, it’s understandable you might need another eternity to make sense of it. 

“Plus, what if….” Her voice trails off and Andy’s eyes turn dark with pain. Nicky knows what she was going to say. The sea. She swallows hard and looks at him, silently pleading for him to understand that she cannot bear anymore loss. “If I am to return, I will need a home to return to. You and Nicky. You are my home. I cannot lose you too.”

Tears sting Nicky’s eyes and he knows he will be missing a part of himself as long as Andy is away, yet he knows she must go. 

“I love you, Andromache, Do what you have to do.” 

“Nicolo, you are so good.”

Sometimes Joe says the same thing. He looks at Nicky in a certain way, his lips slightly turned up, his eyes warm, and that look is always followed by the same question: with everything they’ve done and all they’ve been through, how is it that Nicky is so good? Nicky always answers the same way. He is not good. He is only trying to do good, just like the rest of them. Then he smiles at Joe and tangles his fingers in his hair and kisses him softly on the lips and tells him that this uncertain immortality means nothing if they cannot put some good into the world. 

“I will always do good for you, Andromache. Take all the time you need,” Nicky’s voice is soft, barely audible over the wind. He reaches out and smooths a hair from Andy’s forehead, then places a soft kiss on her right cheek followed by another on her left. “Come back to us, Andromache of Scythia.” 

Andy nods and Nicky sees that her cheeks are now wet with tears too, and this gives him pause. He swallows his sadness, then turns and walks towards the schooner, leaving Andy staring after him. There is nothing left to say. Andy needs to find her own way. It will be just him and Joe in Malta. 

Joe watches Nicky when he finally makes his way to the canvas cots that will be theirs for the coming weeks. He frowns a little as Nicky sinks into his cot. 

“She’s not coming.” 

Nicky looks at Joe then shakes his head and for a long moment both men are silent. The price of immortality is never far from any of their minds. No matter how much they love her, without Noriko, Andy is perpetually alone. She carries a wound that will never heal. 

“She needs time.” As Nicky says those words he realizes how heavy and hollow they feel.

Joe glances around then reaches out and grabs Nicky’s hand. Nicky feels the calloused pads of Joe’s fingers slide across his knuckles, a soft, comforting touch that is gone just as quickly as it arrived. He offers Joe a sad, wan smile as Joe releases his hand. His chest is filled with an indescribable feeling of sorrow at the reality that he and Joe will move forward without Andy. There’s no telling when that might end. In so many ways Andy is just as lost to them as Noriko. 

The trip to Malta is filled with blue skies streaked with white clouds. The sea feels calm and friendly, yet Nicky never forgets its power to change lives. 

Seven days later the schooner sails into Valletta with a bright, overbearing sun high in the sky, washing out the limestone buildings that line the sapphire waters of the harbor. They strap their swords onto their backs and Joe hoists the canvas bag that holds their belongings onto his shoulder. They walk from the wharf, wind their way through the narrow streets and alleys. They stop at the market and Nicky uses the coin in his pocket to fill up a bag with fresh ftira, clay jars of olives, fragrant cheese and coffee smelling of clove and anise. Finally they reach the outskirts of Valletta then head north up the coast until they see a lone tree on a rocky bluff. Just beyond that is the safe house. Home, Nicky thinks, and his stomach twists at the thought. 

The cottage is unchanged from two years ago: white limestone walls almost glowing in the setting sun, graceful arches with clumps of blooming burrage at the bases, windows that open out onto the sea to let in its cool breezes. On the hill behind it is a small grove of ancient, twisted white olive trees. The sight of it brings up a swell of memories and suddenly Nicky feels his eyes prick with tears. He shakes them away.

Joe dumps his bag in the foyer. Nicky walks into the kitchen and sets down the bag from the market. The room smells unused, mostly of dust mixed with the faint smell of charcoal from the hearth. He looks around and suddenly the memory of Joe sitting at the table rises to the front of his brain and he can almost smell the coffee. He remembers Andy in the doorway, her eyes filled with anguish. Nicky squeezes his own eyes shut and feels as if he can't breathe. 

Joe comes up behind him and Nicky momentarily tenses as he feels his lover’s arms slide around his waist and feels the soft press of lips against his neck.

“Finally.” 

Joe breathes against his skin. Nicky closes his eyes and swallows hard at the feel of Joe placing soft kisses on his skin. 

“No.” The word slips out before Nicky even knows why. He pushes Joe’s arms away and starts to rummage around in the sack, not wanting to look at Joe. 

“It’s been a long day, my love,” Nicky says softly, “I’m tired.” 

It’s not entirely a lie. 

Nicky opens the windows to let in the cool air from the sea and Joe pulls out the precious bundle of papers that he uses to draw whatever strikes his fancy. They eat dinner and Joe smiles at Nicky from across the table, then wonders aloud if the small boat is still propped on the side of the house, and perhaps he will go fish in the morning, they will need dinner after all. Nicky nods but he finds he cannot concentrate on Joe's words. His chest feels tight, and he cannot stop the memories of Andy and Noriko; he’s not sure if coming to Malta was the right idea. Finally he stands and kisses Joe softly on the top of his hand, loving the way Joe lifts his hand to curl his fingers around Nicky’s own. There would have been a time when even this simple touch would have sent Nicky reeling. Now he feels numb. 

Nicky falls into bed feeling bone-deep exhaustion from weeks of traveling. He somehow manages to pull the covers up and turn onto his side just as Joe slides in behind him and slots himself against his back. The feeling of Joe stretched heavy and warm against him is bliss after weeks of sleeping apart. Nicky vaguely registers the feeling of Joe placing a soft kiss on the back of his neck before he sinks into the deep, darkness sleep, hoping for a dreamless night. 

_NIcky’s feet scrabble for purchase as he scrambles across the storm-slick deck, the splinters piercing his palm sting as he flies through the air, trying to stop it, trying to pull her back. He screams her name over and over, then he turns and he sees it’s not Noriko. It’s Joe. His eyes lock with Nicky’s just as the wave crashes over him._

He wakes screaming. Joe’s arms are wrapped around him and he whispers in Nicky’s hair, rocking him and telling him that they are okay. They are in Malta. They are home. Nicky cannot answer. He can only sob. 

By the next morning the dream is a ghost of a memory. Nicky wakes and stretches, pushing his toes down towards the bottom of the bed, raising his arms above his head, feeling the pull of his muscles along his side and in his back. His mouth is sour from sleep. He rubs his eyes, scraping away some of the sleep crust. Finally, done with his morning ritual, he reaches out, seeking warm skin and sleepy morning kisses, fingers searching and finding nothing. The other side of the bed is empty. Nicky’s whole being floods with panic as the dream comes rushing back in. Joe is gone. He leaps out of bed, pulling on his trousers and sprints out the front door, his heart pounding, Joe‘s name in his lips. 

“Yusuf!” 

He sees a boat on the water, Joe sitting in it, the wind blowing ripples across the clear blue water. Joe’s arm lifts and waves. He’s fishing. Nicky remembers the night before, Joe talking about taking the boat out to catch them dinner. Bile rises in Nicky’s throat and he sinks to his knees, his feet digging into the sand, his chest heaving with silent sobs. 

_Noriko._

Joe fucks him that night and Nicky wants him to, but it’s not quite right. Joe is no more or less tender than he always is, hot against Nicky’s back, hips snapping frantically as he whispers ridiculous flowery words in his ear that threaten to break his heart. It takes Nicky a long time to come and when they are done, he turns away from Joe and curls onto his side to hide his tears. He cannot answer the questions he knows Joe will ask. The night is quiet and still as Nicky lies awake listening to the soft rhythm of Joe’s breathing, staring into the darkness, afraid to sleep. Afraid he will lose Joe again in his dreams. 

The days slip by, each one no less painful than the last. 

Joe goes for long walks and takes the boat out to catch fish. He sits on the beach and draws. He stretches out on their bed and reads. Nicky spends his days staring out over the sea, never really there, always somewhere else. Slowly he watches as Joe’s face grows more and more melancholy and he knows something has to give. What needs to give feels like something that’s always just out of reach. 

One day it does more than give. It snaps. 

There isn’t anything special about that day. It’s like all the others. Nicky sits in the same chair he always does, his head foggy from too many nights of too little sleep. Joe walks in, his curls heavy and wet from swimming. He’s wearing only drawers that cling damply to his thighs, a sight to behold regardless of the circumstances. Nicky can’t help but give him a brief look of appreciation - the beauty that is a dripping wet Joe. Nicky knows if he stood and went to him, kissed his shoulder, sucked on his collar bone, that he would taste of sand and salt. Joe looks at him, his eyes dark and unreadable, and Nicky feels his heart start to crack.

“This has to stop.” Joe’s, his voice sounds raw and pained. “We lost Noriko, Nicolo, but sometimes I think I lost you to the sea as well. I cannot bear this. I cannot live with you here but not here. I cannot...” Joe’s voice trails off. Nicky watches him, saying nothing. “Now Andy is gone. I wanted to come home. I needed to come home, but it is not home because you are not here. I can kill countless men, defeat the best warriors, but I cannot win this battle!”

Nicky blinks and his eyes sting with unexpected tears. He wants to turn away, to tell Joe to go to hell. But it’s still Joe standing before him, still his Yusuf, the one who has held his heart for centuries, and he can no more turn from him than he could tell his heart not to beat. Nicky opens his mouth, not sure what to say, and before he can stop himself, the truth spills out.

“I can’t stop the thoughts. I can’t stop the fear. I close my eyes and it’s all there, Yusuf. All of it. It replays over and over in my head and sometimes it’s not Noriko who is lost…,” Nicky almost chokes on the words, almost afraid to say them aloud. “Sometimes it’s you. What if it had been you?”

Nicky clenches his fists so tightly it hurts. He stares at Joe. His whole body thrums. Joe stares back, his face washed with mercy Nicky doesn't deserve. Joe steps forward. 

“Nicolo. My sweet Nicolo. You are too good for this burden.” 

“No,” Nicky pleads. Joe’s kindness hurts. 

“You are too good for this world. You always have been. I have always known this” Joe’s mouth quirks with a small smile. His eyes shine with tears. “Even when I was killing you over and over. Even then. You are my Nicolo. Do not make me lose you any sooner than I must.”

Nicky can’t bear Joe’s words, cannot accept the grace his lover offers. He ignores those words, and his own spill out, a confession. “It’s my fault. I should have stopped it. I should have seen it coming. If I had looked up a second sooner….” Nicky feels a frantic sob building in his chest and suddenly the grief he’s been holding inside, the anguish he’d been carrying since Noriko was lost in the most senseless of ways, explodes in one long, terrible lament as he wails out Noriko’s name. The numbness is ripped away and all the feelings he’s been pushing back rush in like a tsunami. Unbearable pain washes over him and Nicky feels as if he’s being crushed. He curls in on himself, trying to push away the pain, trying to stay afloat. He feels Joe touch his shoulder and that touch anchors him. His voice whispers in Nicky’s ear. 

“Nicolo, my Nicolo. You carry too much. Give some to me, habibi. We are nothing in this world if we do not carry our burdens together. We have both carried Andy’s for the last two years. Let me carry yours now. Please… _please_.” 

“Yes,” Nicky chokes out as tears soak his cheeks. He nods. Yes. Please. Joe steps forward and brings his hand to Nicky’s face, cradling his jaw gently, his thumb brushing across Nicky’s lower lip. Nicky leans into Joe’s touch, his eyes fluttering shut, and he knows this is what he needs right now. 

They have both been so consumed by Andy’s grief that neither realized their own was lurking below the surface. 

Joe dips his head and touches his lips to Nicky’s. It’s a soft, chaste touch, nothing remarkable, nothing memorable. Yet that simple touch rocks Nicky to his core.

“Let me carry it, habibi,” Joe whispers against Nicky’s mouth before kissing him again, his beard scratching against Nicky’s stubble. “At least for today.”

Nicky cannot stop the tears that now roll down his face. He groans as Joe kisses him again. Nicky’s hands fist into Joe’s hair as the pain is suddenly replaced by a delirious, fractured, hunger and he crushes their mouths together. The simpleness of Joe’s kisses becomes desperate and sloppy as Nicky finally kisses him back. It’s been too long since he has kissed Joe back like this. He kisses him then kisses him again. Nicky kisses Joe until he’s breathless, kisses him like he’s been starving for this, kisses him until Joe pushes him away and Nicky follows, chasing his mouth, wanting more. 

“Nicolo,” Joe hisses, tipping his head forward, pressing his forehead to Nicky’s, his deep, kind eyes staring into Nicky’s as if it’s the first time he’s seen him in a long time. They stay like that for what feels like an eternity, breathing in unison, and Nicky feels his heart slowly go from racing to steady. Finally Nicky opens his mouth and whispers Joe’s name. 

“Yusuf. I need you.” 

Joe’s hand goes to Nicky’s arm, his fingers pressing into his flesh. Nicky's whole body shivers at this simple touch. 

“Yes.” 

“Take me to bed. Our bed.” 

“Yes.” 

Joe’s hand slides down Nicky’s arm until he reaches his hand. Their fingers tangle together. Nicky lifts his head then shifts his whole body so he and Joe are standing side by side, their hands still clasped together. Together they walk towards their bedroom, and while Nicky knows he should be quivering with anticipation of what comes next, he can only feel Joe’s hand in his and a deep ache that he cannot truly define. His throat is thick with tears, his chest burns. 

They do not close the bedroom door. There is no need. There is no one to interrupt them. Not anymore. Joe leads Nicky to stand by the bed and releases his hand as his fingers go to the buttons on Nicky’s shirt. One by one Joe’s deft fingers flick them open and Nicky feels his nipples harden as the cool air hits his skin. When the buttons are undone, Joe’s hands slip up Nicky’s chest to his shoulders then slide the soft, worn cotton off his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. Nicky glances at the pile of fabric for a brief moment before his attention shifts to the feel of Joe mouthing along the edge of his shoulder, breathing his name across his skin. Nicky’s eyes flutter shut. Joe drops kisses down the side of Nicky’s neck as his fingers move to Nicky’s trousers. Those beautiful fingers undo the laces in the same way he’s been undoing Nicky for centuries now, his knuckles brushing the light trail of hair that leads down to the curls below. They hook inside his drawers then Joe pulls them all down, letting the drawers and trousers fall in a pool around Nicky’s ankles. Nicky stands frozen in place, unable to move.

“Nicolo,” Joe whispers. “Step out.” 

Nicky nods dumbly and does as he’s told, lifting first one foot, then the other, then shoves his drawers and trousers towards where his shirt already lays in a crumpled pile. 

Now it’s Joe’s turn to undress. He makes quick work of his drawers, tossing them into the same pile. Nicky watches, feeling slow and stupid. Normally he would be helping Joe, his fingers frantic. Not now. Not in this time and place. Finally they stand in front of each other, naked. Nicky lets his eyes roam for a moment, taking in the sharp planes and soft curves of Joe’s body, the one he knows almost better than his own. The one that never fails to surprise no matter how many times he’s seen it. Nicky swallows and he feels a slow, soft swell of desire start to gather low in his belly. Joe takes his hand again and this time he pulls him, pulls him to him, pulls him into him, until they are pressed against each other from chest to thigh, Nicky’s chest, belly, cock, all pressed against Joe’s hot skin. Nicky tilts his head forward until his forehead hits Joe’s chest and he finally dares a slight flick of his tongue and Joe tastes of the sea. He feels Joe shudder as his arms wrap around Nicky’s waist and he pulls him even closer, burying his face in the crook of his neck and inhaling deeply. 

“I’ve missed you.” 

Joe steps Nicky backwards, one step then another, until Nicky feels the edge of the bed against his calves. He pitches himself backwards, and suddenly they are both tumbling onto the bed, a tangle of limbs, and Nicky feels a rumble of laughter in Joe’s chest. His eyes fill with more tears, but this time they are from the deep tenderness he feels at this small indication of Joe’s joy. He has missed him too. More than he had realized. 

Joe’s hand slides to Nicky’s thigh, rubbing back and forth. His other hand slides to cup the back of Nicky's head, pulling him into a kiss. This time it's neither simple nor chaste. Nicky gasps into Joe’s mouth as he feels Joe’s hand drift to the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. The room is quiet except for the far off sound of the sea and the wet sounds of their mouths coming together over and over again. Finally Joe breaks away and stares down at Nicky. 

“These last two years, you, me, Andy, it’s like part of all of us died the day Noriko was lost. We cannot die, but I am not truly alive without you, Nicolo. Do you not see that?” 

Nicky nods as he stares into Joe’s face and he feels a deep swell of love for this man, the one who has held onto him as they faced their own type of storm, the one who has finally thrown him a lifeline. 

“You could not have stopped it, my love. What happened is not any different from this uncertain immortality none of us asked for.” 

A sob catches in the back of Nicky's throat as he listens to Joe’s words. 

“We were never able to grieve, habibi. I see that now. Andy needed us and we did what she needed. She got to grieve. but you and I, we didn’t. It’s been two years running from what happened, Nicolo. Two years….” 

Nicky is crying now. 

“I cannot, Yusuf. I cannot stop running. If I stop, it means...it means I’m accepting....” NIcky can’t continue. They both know what he’s trying to say. 

“She’s gone, Nicolo.” 

“No.” 

“We need to say goodbye.” 

“I can’t....” 

“We lost her. We can’t lose each other too.”

Nicky squeezes his eyes shut and he’s back on the deck of that ship, back staring into the sea, and he feels the clench of deep sorrow and utter terror as he realizes that Noriko has been sucked into dark unknown waters never to return. He wraps his arms tightly around Joe’s waist and holds onto him as if that same wave is pulling him down into those depths as well, buries his face against warm skin that tastes of salt from the sea and from the tears that Nicky can’t seem to stop. He opens his mouth against Joe’s skin and sobs out Noriko’s name over and over as he feels Joe's hand gripping his back, that point of contact the only thing keeping Nicky from breaking into one million pieces that will never be put back together. 

“Let it go, my love,” Joe whispers in Nicky’’s ear, and Nicky finally can. Grief and sorrow roll off him in waves no less stormy than the ocean that took Noriko, and Nicky feels like they might never stop. Joe holds him through them all. When, finally, they slow, Nicky finds himself clinging to Joe, soaked in sweat and tears. He turns his head to stare up into Joe’s eyes that look back down at him with infinitesimal care. 

“Fuck me,” Nicky says, the words thick in his mouth, his voice hoarse. “I need you to fuck me.” 

Joe answers by sliding his hand from Nicky’s inner thigh down to grip the curve of his ass. Nicky’s breath intakes sharply at this touch. His eyes lose focus for a moment and he feels his cock start to swell.

Joe kisses him and this kiss is far from gentle. Somehow he knows that his gentleness is not what Nicky wants right now. There will be other times for long drawn out nights and slow tender kisses. Right now he needs to feel. Their mouths crash together, slick with spit, tongues slide against each other, teeth collide. It’s graceless and rough and everything Nicky wants.

Nicky whines when Joe breaks away to push himself up onto his knees. Nicky cannot bear to lose contact so he goes with him, clinging to him, refusing to let go of Joe’s shoulder as he bites along Joe’s neck. 

“I do not think you want me to take you with just spit, my love,” Joe whispers as he twists to reach towards where they keep the oil. Nicky cannot answer. He can only shake his head no just before he sucks on the skin at the junction of Joe’s neck and shoulder. 

Somehow Joe manages to slick his fingers with oil then he is pushing Nicky back down with one hand, the other sliding between his legs with remarkable precision that can only come from intent, and Nicky gasps as one finger presses lightly against his anus, stroking just long enough for it to open. Joe pushes that finger inside with little ceremony. Nicky bites at his lower lip, moans and writhes at the feeling as Joe starts to massage, curling his finger, seeking…. Soon the one finger is followed by a second. Nicky spits out profanity in Italian and arches up against Joe. Joe answers by shifting his hand and sliding his fingers in and out, in and out. Joe asks if it’s good. Nicky answers by pushing upwards with his arms to get closer to Joe then tilts his head forward and laps at one of Joe’s nipples. Joe startles, blurts out Nicky’s name and his fingers stutter a little. Then suddenly his fingers are gone and before Nicky can protest the sudden feeling of emptiness, Joe is ranging up over him. Nicky swallows hard then let’s his thighs fall to either side of him, opening himself up even more, anticipating.... 

“Do you want more?” 

Nicky looks at Joe with watery eyes and can only nod yes. Please. He wants more. He needs more. Joe examines his face, and they stay like that for a long moment, neither making a sound, both panting. Joe sucks in one long, shaking breath then sighs just before he pushes inside Nicky, sliding all the way inside in one smooth movement, his hips pressing up against Nicky’s ass. Nicky stills, feeling full and oh so good. His eyes lock with Joe’s then he clenches Joe’s cock tightly, wanting to feel him more, wanting Joe to move. Joe’s eyes go wide and his mouth falls open. 

“Oh.” 

It’s a small sound; a sound he’s heard countless times; a sound that never fails to thrill him. Nicky wants to cry, to praise the Lord, no, to praise Joe’s glorious cock as Joe starts to move, slow and tentative. Nicky wants more. He hands slide along Joe’s rib cage and go to grip Joe’s ass, urging him onward. Joe follows Nicky’s cue and his strong muscles bunch and release under Nicky’s fingers as Joe starts to thrust in earnest. 

Everything is heat and salt, slick and perfect. Nicky feels the melt of desire start to pool deep in his belly, and the tingle of arousal in his groin. Joe is pounding into Nicky so hard that Nicky’s shoulders push back into the bed and his head bounces. Nicky pulls his knees up further, pushing the bottoms of his feet firmly into the bed, braces himself and arches himself up towards Joe, meeting his thrusts. He wants this almost too much. 

Joe’s head hangs down and Nicky can see a sheen of sweat on his forehead. He feels hot and wound up tight and he wants to come, dear God he wants to come. He pushes up against Joe again and this time Joe loses his rhythm and suddenly they are jerking against each other in a clumsy and awkward version of this dance they both know so well. Finally Joe stills, his cock buried deep inside Nicky, twitching. Joe pushes himself up to stare down at Nicky, his arms trembling from both effort and exertion. It’s all too much, and as Nicky looks into his lover’s eyes he feels the tears he doesn’t seem to be able to stop start to well up again. 

“Let go, Nicolo,” Joe says, his words soft and kind. He drops a kiss onto Nicky’s forehead just as he grinds his hips forward, moving so exquisitely that Nicky can’t help but gasp. Joe pulls out almost all the way then slides back in, slowly sweetly, and Nicky feels good. So good. Joe continues that long slow drag and Nicky can feel his cock slide across that spot that makes everything feel that much better. He lets out a thin whine as he slides his hand down his belly to grasp his aching cock. He whispers to Joe over and over. 

“So good. It’s so good. You’re so good, Yusuf. So good….”

“Nicolo,” Joe answers. “Habibi. I’m here. Let go, Nicolo. Let go…you can let go....”

Those words are all Nicky needs. 

Nicky’s head slams back into the bed as he comes hard, his cock pulsing all over his hand. He shouts out Joe’s name as he bucks and jerks against him, his other hand gripping the muscles of Joe’s back, holding on tightly as wave after wave washes over him. Finally his orgasm slows and Nicky slowly starts to return to his body, feeling soft, boneless and wrung out. It’s only then he notices Joe convulsing against him, rocking and shaking as he comes inside him. For the first time in a long time Nicky smiles a real smile then he presses soft, tender kisses along Joe’s hairline and rubs his cheek against Joe’s beard and pulls him tightly against him, whispering in his ear how much he loves him, how he will love him forever, how he is both his heart and his soul, and how he’s been so lost since the day they lost Noriko. Lost until now. He holds him as Joe works through his own orgasm, holds him as Joe collapses limply against him, holds him as if he will never let him go. Nicky thrills at Joe’s weight, tangles his fingers in his hair, inhales the earthy smell of come mixed with sweat, salt and the way Joe always smells of spices and warm sunshine. They stay like that for a long time, breathing together, Nicky feeling the rise and fall of Joe’s chest, the warmth of his breath on his skin, the feel of his fingers softly stroking his arm. Nicky’s eyes droop and he knows he should move, should kiss Joe, should thank him, but he has no voice and no words. Instead he lets his eyes close and for the first time in a long time he sinks into a dreamless sleep. 

Nicky is finally home.


	4. Chapter 4

They settle in Rome. 

It’s not really settling. Not like the times they’ve stopped their wandering for long periods, found a house and made a life. It’s more that Nicky tells Joe he cannot stay in Malta and Joe mentions Rome is nice, they have a place there, and they are both still weary from all their loss. 

Days shift to months. They do small, distasteful jobs for local criminals and make just enough money to buy food. They don’t need much else. They sleep tangled together, wake to the sun, and finally Nicky feels that tight ball of grief he’s carried since they lost Noriko unwind to the point that he can finally bear it on most days. On the days he cannot, Joe bears it for him. 

One day Nicky wakes and Joe is gone, his side of the bed cold when Nicky reaches out. Nicky feels a small swell of longing when he realizes his lover must have snuck out of bed without waking him, depriving him of warm skin, tousled hair and sleepy eyes. Joe is out collecting payment for their latest job and the night before Nicky had made him promise to bring home fresh bread for their breakfast. Joe had smiled in that same way he always smiles at Nicky, warm and adoring, and observed that was an easy task. 

Nicky does his morning routine of stretching his body every way possible. When he is done he sinks back into the bed, pulls the covers up over his head and lies there, half awake and half asleep, thoughts dancing around his head. He thinks of Joe and of living in Rome and of Joe and how he loves his smile, then of Malta and how someday they will return but not soon, then Joe again. Always Joe. This time it’s how he had kissed him the night before, half soft, half wanting, and how Nicky had smiled at him and kissed him back, murmuring that he was too weary, but tomorrow would be another day. It’s how Joe had curled up against his back, his arm heavy on his waist and softly kissed the back of his neck like he’s done countless times before. Now tomorrow is here and Nicky feels an ache from the memory of Joe’s kisses and he hopes Joe comes home soon. Nicky closes his eyes and lets his mind wander, let’s his hand wander to his half interested cock, stroking it lazily, waiting for Joe’s return. 

A sound from the kitchen jerks Nicky from his thoughts, a sharp clink of dishes. He smiles and thinks that his lover has remarkable timing. Nicky slides out of bed, his chest bare, wearing only his drawers, although he suspects he won’t be wearing them much longer. 

It’s not Joe in the kitchen. 

Nicky freezes in the doorway and stares at the figure of Andromache of Scythia making coffee, her back towards him, her shoulders relaxed and Nicky knows SHE knows he is watching her 

“You stink like Yusuf,” Andy says, not turning around. 

Nicky snorts. He most likely does. Nicky goes to her, wraps her in his arms. Andy turns and does the same to him. He rocks her back and forth as he laughs, a bubbling joyful sound. Nicky pulls away slightly, only so he can kiss her cheek, then her other cheek, then back to the first. He kisses each cheek over and over until Andy is laughing right along with him. 

“Are you well, Andromache?” 

“As can be expected, Nicolo.” Nicky frowns and she places her palm on his cheek, and her touch feels reassuring. She knows that is not what he is asking. “Yes. I am well.” 

“You did not find her.” It’s a statement of truth. The fact that Andy is alone tells Nicky all he needs to know but he still needs to say it, to hear her answer. Andy’s face grows sad. 

“No. But I tried. I needed to try.”

They hear the sound of the door latch at the same time combined with the humming of a centuries old Egyptian folk song that only the three of them remember. They do not break apart as Joe pushes the door open and walks in, bread tucked under his arm, his face transitioning from a soft inward smile to surprise as he sees Nicky is not alone. Nicky does not let go of Andy. He cannot. Not now. 

“Andromache.” The bread drops to the floor as Joe rushes to wrap his arms around Andy’s back and bury his face in her shoulder. Andy drops her head to rest it on Nicky’s bare chest and they stay like that for the longest time, wrapped around each other, breathing each other in, and Nicky feels more content then he has since they lost Noriko. He had not realized how much he had missed Andy. 

Joe is the first to break the embrace. His hands go to Andy’s shoulders just as Nicky releases her, and Joe turns Andy to face him, his eyes searching her face and Nicky watches a small frown crease between his lover’s eyes. 

“No more killing?” Joe asks. Andy shakes her head no. “Noriko?” Andy’s eyes grow dark and shiny at Noriko’s name, her lips press together and the look on her face briefly reminds Nicky of those early days in Malta. His stomach twists with fear. Andy shakes her head ‘no’ again, unable to say the words. Noriko is still gone. Joe squeezes his eyes shut briefly then opens them again. A final question. Perhaps the most important one. “Are you home, Andromache? Are you home?” 

Nicky knows what Joe asks. They cannot bear to go back to what was before this but after Noriko. They cannot go back to the endless killing, the ceaseless dreams of loss. He and Joe have fought that battle. They cannot again. Nicky finds he is holding his breath as he waits for Andy to answer. 

“I am home, Yusuf.” Andy’s cheeks are wet. She looks from Joe to Nicky. Nicky’s whole body floods with relief and he feels himself sag at Andy's words, at the realization that his family is finally whole again. “I am home.”

~fin~

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to leave a kudo or a comment. I like comments almost as much as Nicky likes Joe all wet and salty after a swim in the ocean. I’m pretty sure Nicky likes that A LOT.


End file.
